


The Shortest Distance Between Two Points (is a Line From Me to You)

by supermatique



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supermatique/pseuds/supermatique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranded in a small coastal town in Maine, Emma discovers that her life in New York is not at all what it seems.  There is a world of fairy tales in Storybrooke, and within it a woman named Regina with whom she had once shared a son.  </p><p>Or: When Snow White casts the dark curse anew, Regina is the only one who remembers her gift to Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Line From Me To You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304683) by [emotionalheimlich](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalheimlich/pseuds/emotionalheimlich). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first Big Bang fic of any kind! What a marathon. I'm really proud to have finished it, so thank you for coming and checking it out. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks also to firstactproblems and quinnavyre for their EXTREME BETA efforts. Would not be the story it is without their input. 
> 
> I feel like I'm giving some sort of awards speech with this note... so let's cue the music and get on with it.

It was raining in sheets when Emma was stranded in the township, a fitting end to the write-off of a day. Fat, cold drops thundered down from the sky and drenched her coat. Emma turned her collar up and ducked into the diner as quickly as she could. The little bell above the door tinkled as she burst in, bright and attentive against the sound of her clattering into the room, water dripping from her lapel as she surveyed her surroundings. 

It was near-empty –– close to closing time, Emma presumed, from the look of the tall, young girl wiping down the bench. There was a scruffy, bearded man at the far end of the room, nursing a pint of ale, and a young couple aware only of each other to the corner on her right. 

The girl behind the bench smiled up at Emma. She was pretty, attractive in a rebellious yet childlike manner, the way one might perceive a young pup let free to roam after a spell of home-bound training. “Kitchen’s just about closed,” she said, “But I can see if Granny’ll whip something up for ya.”

Emma stamped her feet on the mat –– _WELCOME_ , it read –– and shed her sodden jacket. She hung it up on the coat stand and sighed quietly at the darkened spots on the red leather, brushing off some excess water. She’d have to hang it up properly later. 

She pulled a menu over and glanced over the typical diner fare on offer. Tracking down Dean Hunter nearly to the Canadian border meant she’d been going almost six hours without a break, but that was nothing new. Nonetheless, her stomach chose that moment to growl. “Can I get a cheeseburger? With curly fries?”

“Sure,” the girl said, filling out a slip on the order pad and ducking into the kitchen. She emerged moments later and cocked her hip against the counter. By now Emma was close enough to see that her name-tag read _RUBY_. “Anything to drink?”

Emma would normally be killing for a cold beer, but she was shattered and cold. “Hot chocolate, if you could. And maybe––” Oh, why the hell not–– “A shot of that Frangelico.”

Ruby’s grin widened. It continued to be mildly alarming –– albeit an alarm tinged with a sense of admiration –– to Emma that there were still people in the world who could express pleasure so without restraint. “Coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

Emma sat three stools away from the man. He glanced over at her, seemingly disinterested at first, but Emma caught his eye and spotted a gleam that belied his incurious expression. It soon turned into one of undisguised curiosity, and the man turned in his stool to face Emma fully. Emma studiously turned back to the fine grain of the counter. 

"Hey, lady," he said, his voice a gruff slur. "What's yer name?"

Emma thought about not answering. But in the same heartbeat, Ruby swooped in with her food and a steaming mug of hot chocolate and said, “Leave her alone, Leroy.” She winked at Emma. “Don’t mind him.”

“First visitor we’ve had in this town for years,” Leroy scowled, but nonetheless he turned back to his drink without further comment.

Emma took in that tidbit of information. It wasn’t surprising; her brief drive down the main street of Storybrooke hadn’t in fact struck her as the type of town that would have many, if any, visitors at all. 

She wrapped her hands around the mug and took a long sip. The chocolate was rich and undiluted, and as the warmth from the mug spread through her palms the heat of the drink passed through her body, and the strangest sensation of calm settled in her bones. 

“My name is Emma,” she said, placing the mug back down.

Ruby leaned across the counter, elbows bracing her. She flashed Emma another winning smile. “I’m Ruby. What brings you to town?”

Emma checked her shoulder. Through the shutters and rain she could see her car parked across the road, a gloomy spot of yellow in the shimmering wetness. “My car broke down,” Emma said. “But I figure I’ll need to wait until tomorrow to get it fixed.”

“Oh, sure,” Ruby said. “I can get Michael to come and have a look at it in the morning. Do you need a place to stay tonight?”

Emma absentmindedly rubbed at an itch over her left breast. “That would be great, if you know a place.”

*

It turned out that Ruby did know a place –– “Granny runs the bed and breakfast too, we’ve got a few rooms spare upstairs” –– and the rain thundered on as she led Emma through the back of the diner and up to a spacious double room. The sodium of the lamplights outside the diner cast some intangible yellow glow on the road, and the tar shone slick with water and oil. Emma stared out the window at the scene, and thought about the four hours back to Boston. So close, yet so far. 

Her hand strayed to her chest where the itch had intensified, seeming to thrum with a heartbeat of its own. She rubbed at it over her sweater.

"––hope this is okay," Ruby was saying when Emma tuned back in to the present. She was looking at Emma expectantly, with a small smile as though waiting for praise or assent. 

"Yes, it's fine," Emma said. It was the right thing to say; Ruby's smile widened and she ducked her head. 

"Great," she said. "Well, if you need anything just call. Granny's just down the hall and I'm down that way." This was accompanied by a vague gesture to the south of the establishment. 

"Thank you. If you could call the mechanic tomorrow…”

Ruby nodded. “Sure thing.”

Left to her own devices, Emma shut the firm wooden door behind her and sighed. She rubbed at her face with her hand and reached into her jeans pocket for her phone. She dialed the first number on her favourites list and waited for the call to connect. She didn’t have to wait long; two rings and a young boy answered the phone. 

“Henry, it’s me,” Emma said. 

_“Hey, mom. What’s up? Did you want to talk to Walsh?”_

“In a bit, kid. Listen, my car’s broken down but I can’t get it fixed until morning. So you’re going to have to stay with Walsh for the night, okay? I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

_“Sure. Are you okay?”_

Emma sighed. “Just a little wet. And missing my kid a whole bunch.”

 _“Oh,”_ Henry said. _“Must be a really good kid.”_

“He’s a little annoying sometimes, but he’s cute enough.”

Henry laughed, and Emma smiled. She wished he were there with her so she could ruffle his hair and watch him scrunch his eyes up in fake embarrassment, trying to dodge out from underneath her. “I love you, kid.” 

_“Love you too, mom.”_

There were sounds of static and rustling over the connection as Henry passed the phone to Walsh. _“Hey, babe,”_ Walsh said, when he picked up. _“What happened? Where are you?”_

“Halfway down the Maine coast. Some small town called Storybrooke,” Emma said. “The engine just stopped. Good thing I was halfway through this place otherwise I’d have been stuck in the middle of even more nowhere.”

_“Want me to come and pick you up?”_

“No, the mechanic’ll come check it out tomorrow. Just make sure Henry’s all right.”

_“You can count on me. We’ll see you soon.”_

“Thanks, Walsh. You’re the best.”

_“I love you, Emma.”_

“I––” the words stuck in her throat, as they’d always done for the past six weeks that Walsh had started saying them. “Me too.”

Walsh chuckled. _“Good night.”_

“Bye.”

The itch from earlier resurfaced, and she took her sweater off and pulled her bra strap aside to see what the problem was. 

Her skin was slightly reddened from where she had scratched, but apart from that no mark was to be found. Emma rubbed at it, puzzled, even as it began to itch again. This time, though, the itch became an agonising stinging feeling. Emma's breath caught in pain and alarm. 

She dashed to the bathroom and shoved aside her top, splashing water from the tap onto herself to cool her skin. It was to no avail, however, as the pain only became greater. 

Long minutes later, the pain faded away just as quickly as it began. Emma clung to the porcelain sink, white-knuckled against the edge, desperately trying to catch her breath. Her heart pounded directly beneath where her skin had felt searing and blistered even as it remained smooth and pale on the outside. 

She stared at herself in the mirror, the exhaustion from the past twelve hours catching up to her in a split second, as if Storybrooke itself had lent a weight to her shoulders. She could not deal with this right now.

Emma dried herself, her mind and body weary. She put her day-old clothes back on, too fatigued now to shower, and moved back into the bedroom. The bed was queen-sized, with plumped pillows and a thick duvet neatly made. It looked so very comfortable in that moment, and Emma threw herself side-on onto the mattress, feet hanging off the edge. 

In moments, she was fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma was awoken the next morning by someone knocking at the door. It had been a fitful slumber, disturbed by a vague, unchanging and persistent throb where the pain had been the night before. Momentarily disoriented, it took Emma a minute to locate herself, having remained in the position in which she had fallen asleep. Her sweater and damp jeans clung uncomfortably to her skin, and Emma climbed awkwardly off the bed. She opened the door to find Ruby standing there with an affable-looking man dressed in blue overalls and the name _Michael_ stitched over his breast. 

“Hi, Emma,” Ruby said. “Sorry to wake you but I called Michael about your car and… it’s been clamped.”

“What?” 

“You’ll have to call the Sheriff to remove it, ma’am,” Michael said respectfully. “I can drive you over in my truck, but I won’t be able to take your Bug down to the garage at the minute.”

Emma sighed. This town was seriously just… “All right. Let me get changed and––” She stopped short and scrubbed her face with the palm of her hand. “And I don’t have any clothes to change into. Well, I guess now is as good a time as any.”

*

Downstairs, the diner was full of activity, and Granny was bustling back and forth from kitchen to customer, moving to-and-from each table with somewhat annoyed yet practiced ease. When she saw Ruby, she frowned. 

“Come on, child. We don’t have all day.”

“Coming, Granny,” Ruby said, grinning even as she rolled her eyes. “Good luck,” she called out to Emma. The bell above the door tinkled a goodbye as Emma and Michael headed out. 

Outside in the new morning light, it was as if last night’s rain had never happened. The road was dry, the sky was blue, and the air fresher than anything Emma had ever breathed in. It was more than a shade different to New York City, and Emma closed her eyes briefly, basking in the feel of calm, crisp air on her face.

Storybrooke was a beautiful town. She’d have to find a postcard for Henry. Might as well make this little detour memorable in some way. 

The Sheriff’s station was not ten minutes away from the diner, only a few turns off the end of Main Street. Emma jumped out of Michael’s truck and barged into the station, only to find two women arguing in the middle of the doorway of the Sheriff’s office.

They were two very different women. One was in the Deputy Sheriff's uniform, a tall Chinese woman who was currently scowling in irritation at the other, who was a little bit shorter but seemed to make up for it in intimidation. She was very well off, judging from her tailored attire and expensive-looking pumps. Emma thought of the pair she had in her closet that she had shelled out a few hundred for, that she broke out for those alluring dates with sleazy bond escapees. She guessed that the heels she was looking at right then –– attached to a very attractive pair of legs –– cost twice as much, if not more.

“––Mulan,” the intimidating one was saying, hand waving in the Deputy’s face, “As incompetently as you insist on running this department in David’s absence––” 

"Madam Mayor," Mulan cut in somewhat helplessly, "You can’t keep coercing the Sheriff’s department! If you won't let me do my job––"

"You can _do your job_ ," Madam Mayor began to say quite heatedly, which is when she caught sight of Emma standing a respectable distance away, waiting to butt in with her own beration.

What followed happened very quickly, and Emma was able to catch it only because it was learned behaviour from bail jumpers to her. It was as if someone had sucker punched the woman in the gut. Shock was written all over her face, eyes wide and mouth gaping in an ‘O’ of surprise. Emma thought she saw recognition in the mayor’s face, but dismissed it. 

In the next second, however, the mayor had caught herself, reining in the emotions and straightening both her face and her posture. She was calm, now, standing regally –– and beautifully, Emma thought –– but also disdainful, as if of the fact that Emma had spoiled her fun in being an audience to her telling off of the Deputy.

The three of them stood in silence, Mulan and the mayor sizing Emma up, and Emma staring back hesitantly wondering if she should come back later. There was something about the mayor that commanded the room, as though one had to be granted license to speak in her presence. 

It was Mulan who spoke first. "Hello," she said. "How can I help you?"

"Uh," Emma began, "Sorry to interrupt. My name’s Emma Swan. You clamped my car outside the diner."

“Oh, yes,” Mulan said, with a sideways glance at the mayor. “You were in a no parking zone overnight.”

“My car’s actually broken,” Emma replied, glancing quickly at the mayor who had begun to stare holes into the side of her head. “So I didn’t really have a choice.”

“I’m... still going to have to ticket you,” she said. “We have a very strict policy––”

“––Which we are happy to waive in your case,” the mayor interjected, earning a sharp and incredulous stare from the Deputy. “Seeing as your circumstance was highly unfortunate––”

“––It is,” Emma agreed, nodding. Mulan’s frown deepened, and she rolled her eyes.

“I will escort you back to your vehicle,” the mayor continued as if Emma hadn’t said a word, “As a personal apology for this inconvenience.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Emma said. She wasn’t entirely certain that she wanted to hang around this regal lady for too long. There was a glint in her eye that Emma didn’t quite trust, that made her feel like she was a split second of alone-time away from being butchered by the side of the road and thrown under a bridge to have her corpse devoured by wild animals. “Michael –– the mechanic –– he gave me a ride. He’s actually waiting outside.” 

“Is he?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Emma said. “So I think we’re good.”

The mayor lifted her chin and an eyebrow at Emma. “Well, I insist. I daresay Mr Tillman has space enough in his truck for the both of us.”

Which is how Emma ended up in the backseat of Michael’s truck, with the mayor occupying the front passenger seat. It really wasn’t her style at all, and Emma stifled a laugh at the sight of the mayor picking up the tail of her plush woolen coat and wrinkling her nose at the greasy interior as she stepped into the truck.

“I’m sorry about the mess, Madam Mayor,” Michael stuttered, quickly clearing the dash of invoices and other assorted materials. 

“No matter, Mr Tillman. I just hope you’ll be able to assist Miss Swan with her car.”

“Will do my best, Madam Mayor,” Michael replied, and even offered up a small salute. Emma did laugh at that, then, earning the mayor’s gaze through the rearview mirror. 

“Where were you off to, Miss Swan?” the mayor asked. “Before you came to our humble little town.”

“New York,” Emma answered, smiling a little at the thought of Henry back home.

“New York? It’s a lovely city.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat,” Emma offered, feeling incredibly inane under the mayor’s intense gaze. “Have you been?”

“No,” the mayor replied. “But I hear it’s quite the destination. Do you have family there?”

Emma’s smile grew wider. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I do.” She checked the clock on the dashboard of the truck. If she called now, she could just catch Henry before he left for school. She dug her phone out of her pocket, excused herself from the conversation, and dialed. She didn’t notice the mayor watching her even more keenly now. 

Henry answered after two rings. _“Mom?”_

“Hey, kid. How are you? I wanted to call before you went to school.”

 _“We’re just on our way out,”_ Henry quipped. _“Walsh made waffles for breakfast.”_

Emma smiled. “Oh, did he? Not as good as mine, though, right?”

There was a beat before Henry cheerfully replied, _“No, ‘course not,”_ and Emma made a mental note to challenge Walsh to a waffle-making competition before she ever left him alone with her kid again. One-upping her on the breakfast stakes: that was a no-no. _“When are you coming home?”_

“Hopefully soon, kid. The mechanic’s gonna have a look at my car and fix it up, and I’ll be back before you know it.” They pulled up in front of the Bug, then. Mulan had beaten them there, and was loading the clamp back into the patrol car as Michael parked. “All right, kid, I gotta go,” Emma said. “Have fun at school, okay? I love you.”

_“Love you too, mom. Bye.”_

Michael had attached the tow hook and chain onto the Bug and was looking at Emma expectantly. “We’re good to go, whenever you are.”

“Great.” Emma turned to Mulan and the mayor. “Thanks for letting me off, uh...”

“Regina,” the mayor replied, with a smile that resembled more of a grimace. “Please call me Regina.”

“Thanks, Regina. Deputy. I really appreciate it.”

Mulan only offered a short, courteous nod and was away again. Emma and Michael were already halfway back into the truck when Regina said, “I’m coming with you.” 

Michael stared. “Madam Mayor?”

Regina made a noise of irritation. “What part of that didn’t you understand?” She paused, her hand on the passenger door. “I’m coming to make sure Miss Swan’s car is sufficiently looked after under your care, Mr Tillman.”

“Uh…” Emma was going to say _you don’t have to_ but then decided Regina wasn’t the type of person to argue too much with. “Okay.”

And so they were off again, Emma in the back seat once more after Regina had given her a very arch look when Emma hadn’t moved. When they got to the garage, Michael set about opening up the Bug while Emma and Regina hung around the outside. 

Regina was looking at Emma very closely as they both stood there, the type of look that made Emma feel like she either had something on her face or had maybe a third eye growing on her cheek. She was standing with her hands in her pockets and Regina was also in a similar stance, somehow managing to make Emma feel like a slovenly hobo. She hadn’t had a chance to shower or change, though, so Emma figured it wasn’t really something that was her fault. 

She self-consciously shifted on her feet and discreetly tried to rub at her face and wipe away whatever was apparently on there.

“Was that your son?” Regina asked innocuously, after a lengthy period of silence. “On the phone, before.” 

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “His name’s Henry.”

“It’s a very handsome name.”

Emma smiled at the compliment. “Thanks. I–– yeah.” She was going to say where she’d thought of it, but her mind was confusingly blank all of a sudden. “I guess I just liked it when I had him.”

“You must be very proud,” Regina continued. “How old is he?”

“Twelve, almost thirteen.” Emma glanced over at Regina. “I had him when I was young,” she felt compelled to explain.

Regina merely murmured in assent and turned her attention to Michael, who was wiping his hands on a rag that looked so covered in grease and oil that it can’t have been much good for cleaning anything any more. Emma thought she looked like she was about to cry. Perhaps from relief from not having to sit in the truck any more, Emma thought.

“Okay,” Michael said, as he came up to the women. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Both in one sentence?” 

Michael chuckled. “All right. Well, good news is your fan belt was broken. Good news because that’s an easy fix. Bad news, your engine’s cooked. Bad news because you’re going to have to replace it and I’m gonna have to source it for ya. Bug parts don’t come easy around here.”

That was definitely not what she wanted to hear. “How long?” 

“Hard to say,” Michael replied. “I’ll have to call around. Might have to get one in from Portland or Brunswick. Could be a couple weeks, maybe more.”

Emma’s heart sank. “Can you try and get one really fast?”

“Sure,” Michael said. “But I hope you don’t have anywhere to be because it’ll be a week at least.”

“All right.” Emma ran through her options: she could leave Henry with Walsh for the week or two, or have Walsh come pick her up. But they’d have to bring Henry and he’d miss school; no way was she going to leave him in New York alone. _When was his field trip?_ Emma wondered, biting her lip. Maybe the school could… no. 

“Where are you staying?” Regina said, breaking into her thoughts and still looking very much out of place amongst the dismantled cars and smell of grease of the Tillman garage. 

Emma shrugged. “At Granny’s, I guess.” The bed and breakfast wasn’t expensive, but it wasn’t something that would be cheap after an extended period of time. Emma briefly entertained the idea of buying another car –– but she didn’t really have the money for that, either.

“You’ll stay with me,” Regina said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “I have a spare room in a separate section of the house. It’s yours for as long as you need.”

“I don’t think––”

“I insist.” Regina’s voice was firm, but warm. “Please. If you don’t feel comfortable there after a night, then Granny’s will still be available.” She smiled at Emma as if they were old friends meeting after an embarrassingly long time, and she was the one who had kept putting off catching up. “But I can assure you, I am an excellent hostess.”

“In that case,” Emma said, “I guess I can’t refuse.”

*

Regina lived on Mifflin Street, a secluded and exclusive area on the edge of town that screamed _MONEY!!_ to Emma. 108 was a proper mansion, with a sprawling front garden and dedicated pathway to the front door. The garden was beautifully manicured, as impeccable as Regina herself. 

Regina parked her Mercedes in the triple garage(!) and opened a door to the side of the garage that led directly into the house. Emma was at once amazed and appalled as she took in the grand foyer and spiral staircase. The interior was so opulent and the woodwork finish so well polished that her eyes almost hurt to look at it. 

What did Regina do with a house this big? 

“The spare room is this way,” Regina said, leading Emma to a hallway just to the left of the foyer. “I hope you’ll find it to your liking.”

Emma found it to her liking indeed. It was just as ridiculously luxurious as the rest of the house, furnished with a queen bed, an armchair, a bookcase (full of books), and a small study desk. 

“There are towels in the cupboard in the bathroom,” Regina continued, then looked Emma up and down. Her eye was critical, yet not quite as disapproving as Emma had anticipated. “I’ll see if I can find you something to wear.”

*

 _Something to wear_ turned out to be very posh, very expensive-looking (and probably also actually very expensive) silk blouses and slacks. Quite conservative colours, Emma noted, which fit with the mayoral air Regina projected well enough. 

“I found a pair of old jeans, as well,” Regina said as she placed the clothes on the bed. “If you find that better suited to your… tastes. Nothing that quite compares to that jacket of yours,” she added with a small smirk.

Emma looked at her jacket. “Hey, this jacket’s seen me through some pretty rough times,” she said, stroking the leather affectionately. 

A shadow seemed to pass over Regina’s face. “Yes, well,” she murmured, turning to take her leave. “I need to get back to the office. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Actually,” Emma said, before Regina reached the door. “Could you give me a ride back to the diner? I haven’t had breakfast.”

Regina laughed at that. “Of course, Miss Swan,” she said almost affectionately. “Not a problem at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

Emma was exhausted. She half-wished she’d stayed back at the mansion for a nap, or a shower at least. After breakfast, she had wandered around the Storybrooke township, killing time first by watching Michael tinker with the Bug –– he had a promising lead on an engine from Portland, he said, elbow-deep in the innards of her most prized possession –– and then meandering down to the library, where she had bumped into Ruby on her break, making the most unsubtle moves on the girl working there. 

After that she had checked out the pawn shop, run by a Mr Gold –– fitting –– who was all at once welcoming and a little bit creepy. The bell on the doorframe had tinkled when she walked in, and Gold had emerged from the back office.

“A visitor,” he said, leaning heavily on a gilded cane. “We don’t get many of those around here.”

“So I hear,” Emma replied, wandering around the various antiques and knick-knacks. Her gaze landed on an old sword, sheathed with a hilt made entirely of gold. The pommel was rounded and smooth, the grip textured, ending in a curved, ridged guard. She picked it up, hefting its solid, balanced weight in her hand. She pulled it from its sheath, admiring the fine silver blade. It was warm in her grip, and she longed to swing it. Her body seemed to know what her mind didn’t. 

“It’s yours,” Gold said, smiling at her in a super creepy crocodile way, his voice oddly strained. “If you like.”

Emma scoffed. Nothing came for free, especially not for… well, nothing. “What’s wrong with it? Is it cursed? Mind of its own? Chop my head off while I sleep?”

Gold came closer, then, his smile turning into a cocky smirk. Emma wondered what he knew that she didn’t. “Do not be so quick to turn away a gift, Miss Swan. You never know when it might come in…useful.” This he said with a flourish and tip of his head. 

“How do you know my name?”

Gold only laughed. “Always so predictable.” He flicked his wrist and Emma instinctively drew back. “You’re a visitor in a small town, dear. Tongues will wag, of course.” 

“Uh huh.” Emma put the sword down and backed away. The blade caught the light as she turned, glinting at the corner of her eye. “Well, thanks and all, but I think I’m good.”

She left the pawn shop, unsettled by the way Gold watched her as she went. She could feel his eyes on her back, and only when the bell tinkled her exit did she breathe in relief.

Afterward she had returned to the diner for a drink, and then walked back to Mifflin Street. Regina had given her a key, and instructions to remove her boots at the door. 

In the bathroom she found the towels and began to strip down, already thinking about the epic nap she was going to have when she got out of the shower. She threw her jacket over the back of the chair next to the bed and had just pulled her sweater and bra off when she heard heels clack into the room and a gasp behind her. 

Emma turned to find Regina frozen in the doorway, one hand on the frame and the other over her mouth. 

“Sorry,” Regina stuttered. “I–– saw your boots at the door and wondered if you wanted a drink before dinner.”

“Sure,” Emma said, only thinking to cover herself after a few seconds, “I could drink.” She bit back a laugh. Regina had gone almost completely red, hilariously attempting to avert her eyes while unable to tear them away from Emma’s back. Must be the tattoo, she thought. Not everyone expected to see a giant lion on someone’s back.

“I have a fine bottle of scotch that is best enjoyed with company.”

“Sounds good.”

Emma smiled again, and Regina flushed as she looked away. “Well.” Regina cleared her throat, hand on the doorknob as she turned to leave. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

*

A delicious smell was wafting through the mansion when Emma went downstairs, feeling a million bucks in the most ridiculously comfortable silk blouse she had ever worn. Her shoulders were broader and more toned than Regina’s, so the fit was a little awkward, but the material kissed her skin so blissfully that Emma considered a career change. Mayor of a small town, how hard could it be? She chuckled to herself as she walked into the kitchen, finding Regina stirring something on the stove, with dough and various seafoods on a tray next to her.

“Everything looks so good,” she commented, picking a prawn from the prep plate and popping it into her mouth. “What are we having?”

Regina jumped, startled at Emma’s sudden close proximity to her, but recovered quickly. “Fettucine marinara. I thought you should have a taste of the finest seafood you’ll find on this side of the coast.”

Emma nodded approvingly. She was already craving another prawn; she wondered if Regina would notice if she took another. “Do you cook much?”

“Yes,” Regina replied, fetching two glasses of scotch from the far end of the bench and handing one to Emma. “Though I more enjoy the process of cooking. The food that comes out at the end is merely a bonus. Do you?”

“I try. But Henry prefers not to be poisoned, so.” Emma shrugged, sipping her drink. The burn was exquisite. She gave Regina a resigned look as she swallowed. “Whaddaya gonna do.”

Regina’s laughter caught them both by surprise. Emma chuckled. Their gazes held, and Regina’s face softened before she turned back to the stove.

*

“Your tattoo,” Regina casually remarked later over their meal. They had opened a bottle of white wine to pair with it, and Regina refilled their glasses. “It’s very beautiful.”

“Which one?” Emma asked. 

“The lion, on your back.” Regina hesitated. “I hadn’t realised there were others.”

“I have a few others,” Emma replied, and chuckled at Regina’s surprise. “But thank you. The lion is… dear to me.”

“How did you come by it?” Regina asked, placing her fork and knife down beside her plate. She took a sip of wine and placed her hands on either side of her plate. 

“When I got out of prison,” Emma began, “I wanted something to show on the outside what I felt I could be on the inside.” She scoffed lightly at the memory, picking at the edge of the placemat. “It sounds ridiculous, but I dreamt about that lion when I had Henry, like a recurring dream. By the time I got out I knew it so well I could draw it by heart. I walked into the first place I found and put it on my back to remind myself that I could be strong.”

“You are strong, Emma,” Regina said with conviction, picking her cutlery back up, but Emma noticed Regina’s hands were shaking; her knife made a sharp _tink!_ as it knocked the edge of the plate. “Stronger than you know. Raising a child alone is no easy task.”

“He’s all I have in the world,” Emma replied. “It was easy because of that. Do you have any? Children, I mean,” and the last thing she expected to see was tears rolling down Regina’s cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” Regina said hastily, wiping at her tears quickly and messily. “I–– No, I don’t have any children.”

Emma was dismayed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You haven’t,” Regina assured her. “It’s… complicated.”

“I’m so sorry, you’ve done me this huge favour and cooked me an amazing dinner, and I’ve made you cry.” Emma took a sip of wine and pursed her lips, gazing at a spot over Regina’s shoulder. “Why don’t we talk about something else,” she said finally with a smile. “Tell me about Storybrooke. How you became the mayor. I’ve never visited a small town before.” 

Regina smiled tightly. “It’s not much of a story.” She toyed with the stem of her wine glass. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to hear more about Henry.”

Emma was just thinking about what to say when the doorbell rang. Regina frowned as she looked at the clock. “Excuse me,” she said, placing her napkin on the table. 

“If you have visitors, I can leave,” Emma said, already getting up. 

“No,” Regina said firmly. “I’m not expecting anyone. Please, stay here. I won’t be long.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favouritest chapter ever! So happy you guys are reading it! A++ enjoy!

The voices from the front of the house were murmuring and overlapping. More than one visitor, Emma noted, listening to the cadences of the people talking. Regina hadn’t shut the door, so they weren’t welcome inside. But Regina had also been gone for a while, now, so whoever it was had something important enough to keep her there. Emma picked up her wine glass and was taking another sip when she heard a strangely familiar voice pipe up, now further inside the house. 

She frowned. That sounded like –– 

“Mom? Are you here?” 

Yep, that was definitely Henry. What the hell was he doing here? Emma got up and went to see if her ears were deceiving her, and was met by her son barrelling into her at top speed just as she entered the foyer.

“Henry, shoes––!” Regina snapped, and then sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“How did you know my name?” Henry asked, squinting up at Regina even as he had an arm around Emma’s waist.

“Regina?”

Regina sighed again, folding her arms across her chest. “Your mom was just telling me about you,” she said to Henry, although Emma’s lie detector had begun to growl at her, a low sort of warning rumble like a lion wary of an incoming disturbance. “And when the Deputy brings a child to my house because he’s looking for his mother, well.” Regina’s expression grew quite arch. “I didn’t become Mayor because of my looks.”

Emma doubted anyone would have argued either way, but that was beside the point right now. “The more important question is what are you doing here?” she exclaimed. “How did you even get here? And where’s Walsh?”

“Who’s Walsh?” Regina asked, as if the name had reminded her of the time she had stepped in a cowpat or crossed a deep puddle in flats.

“Mom’s boyfriend,” Henry said, and in the same breath blurted, “Who is a cheater!”

“Boyfriend?” Regina echoed, now definitely having stepped in a cowpat and crossed a deep puddle in flats. 

“Cheater?” Emma said. “What gave you that idea?” Then, she shook herself. “More important matters at hand. How did you get here?”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for a child to be travelling alone these days?” Regina demanded, picking right up from where Emma had left off.

Henry stared back at them incredulously. “I’m twelve, I took the bus.”

“There is no bus line to Storybrooke,” Regina said, but her expression was thoughtful. 

“Well, I took it,” Henry said defiantly. He looked at Emma. “Mom, I had to come. Walsh is cheating on you and he said you would be gone for a week. Please don’t be mad.”

“Okay, Henry. We’ll talk about that later. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Emma pulled him into a tight hug. “Please don’t do this again.” 

“I won’t,” Henry promised. Then, as he disentangled himself from Emma ruffling his hair, his eyes widened. “Mom!” he exclaimed. “What happened?” 

Emma instinctively checked her hands and arms but there was nothing to be seen. “What happened? Where?”

“There.” Henry pointed to where Regina’s low-cut blouse had exposed some skin above Emma’s breast. “Doesn’t it hurt?” 

Emma looked down, frowning as she tried to see what Henry was talking about. It was too high up on her chest for her to see properly, but when she touched where he was pointing she could feel it –– there was a mark that felt like the shape of a crude X.

“It appears to be a burn,” Mulan observed neutrally. The others, having forgotten that she was there, jumped slightly at her voice. “But the shape of a brand. It is very perfectly formed.”

“Okay, everybody stop staring at my boobs,” Emma huffed, looking around for the nearest mirror. There was one in the hallway, and she dashed over to check her reflection. 

Mulan was right –– the X was perfectly formed. Her skin was raised and puckered like scar tissue, the mark faint enough that it seemed like it would fade back into itself in a moment, the same way a welt would gradually disappear, but it was definitely there, and noticeable.

"What..." Emma breathed, tracing her index finger over the outline of the cross. Her skin was warm and she felt flushed, but the mark was cool against the pad of her finger. Emma rubbed at it, but there it remained. “Since I got here,” she said, “It’s been itching. But this––” 

She stopped, taking a moment to think. The itch. She had forgotten about it since the morning, but everything had been so frantic that Emma hadn’t had time to even notice it. But it was different now. The throb was still there, but instead of the irritation that it had been last night, spoiling for a fight, it felt... calmer, and was pulsing in a somewhat relaxed way, like it was contented, almost. “This is too weird,” she said, tracing the X over and over. “It doesn’t hurt any more. It burned like I was on fire last night but there was no mark. I checked.”

Regina had come over to her, then, standing very close to Emma and pushing Emma’s hands away so that she could look at the mark herself. She had a strange look on her face even as her expression was cool. “What?” Emma asked, impatient after Regina had examined her chest for so long that she began to feel even more self-conscious. “What is it?”

Regina didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “When did it begin?”

“I dunno,” Emma said. “Sometime last night. It was just itching, I didn’t really notice it. And then Ruby took me to my room and it hurt like hell afterwards.”

“ _When_ , Emma,” Regina pressed. “When you entered Storybrooke? Or before?”

Emma frowned, thinking about it. “Well,” she said. “I guess when I got to the diner, actually. I can’t remember it before that. Why?”

Regina was frowning now, too, brow furrowed as she stared at nothing in particular. She looked troubled, yet Emma saw something thoughtful in her eyes, a kind of excitement and possibility. Regina’s mind was racing, but with what?

“What’s going on, mom?” Henry asked. “Who is this lady?”

“She’s the mayor,” Emma answered, just as Regina said, “Do not call me––”and cut herself off swiftly. She turned away from Emma and Henry and said to Mulan, “That’ll be all, Deputy. Thank you.”

Mulan nodded, courteous even as her expression was clearly a curious one. “Good night, Madam Mayor. Ma’am.” She waved to Henry. “Please don’t do that again.” 

“I won’t,” Henry said. “I found who I was looking for.”

The second Mulan shut the door, Regina turned to Emma quite urgently. She looked like she was about to say something to Emma, but instead she said to Henry, “Henry, would you like something to eat? You must have had a very long journey.”

Henry was looking at Regina, interested but suspicious. “What do you have?”

“Well,” Regina said. “Do you like pasta?”

*

They all ended up back in the dining room, Emma and Regina watching Henry pile into a plate of fettuccine marinara. “This is really good, thank you,” Henry said politely to Regina. Emma raised her eyebrows. Suck up. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Regina said. 

“Did you cook it?”

“I did. Your mother helped as well.” 

Henry was surprised. “She did?” 

“Yes,” Regina said, smiling at Emma, but it was an oddly warm and familiar smile, as if they were friends and not strangers who had only met twelve hours ago –– what was that about? “She did.”

Suddenly Emma had a realisation. If Henry was here, and was meant to be with Walsh right now–– “Henry,” she said, “Does Walsh even know you’re gone?”

Henry bit his lip and looked away. Regina smirked. 

“Henry!” 

“I said I was tired and I was going to have a nap before dinner,” Henry admitted. “And then when he was in the shower I snuck out and took the subway to the bus station.”

“Where’d you get the money?” 

Henry was smirking, now, too. “I stole it from his wallet.”

Emma groaned. “Henry,” she sighed. “How did you even–– never mind.” She stood up and walked to the corner of the room, pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed Walsh’s number. 

_“Emma_ ,” Walsh immediately answered after one ring, sounding breathless and harried. _“Hi. What’s up?”_

Emma frowned. Surely he would have found Henry missing by now. “I’m calling about Henry.”

 _“Oh, did you want to talk to him?”_ Walsh said, nonchalantly, but there was an undercurrent of panic in his voice and Emma didn’t need a lie detection superpower for her suspicion to go off the charts. 

“No,” Emma said slowly, “He’s here, Walsh. He’s right in front of me. He caught the bus to Maine.”

There was a very long silence on the other end of the line. Emma glanced back over her shoulder. Regina had a look of pure schadenfreude on her face while Henry was watching on with keen interest. 

_“Emma, I am so sorry,”_ Walsh apologised profusely. _“I didn’t want to worry you.”_

“He’s my son!” Emma exclaimed. “He goes missing, the first thing you do is call me! What if something had happened to him?”

_“I know, I should’ve. I thought he was just playing a prank on me–– He said he was tired, and I thought he just had a... really active day at school, and I just. I’m so, so sorry. Is he all right?”_

“He’s fine. He’s in big trouble,” and here Emma glared at Henry, who shrugged innocently. “But he’s fine.” 

_“Okay, that’s good,”_ Walsh said, relieved. _“Listen, I’m already on the road, I thought he might have gone to a friend’s house… I’ll come pick you up. If I leave now, I can be there by twelve.”_

Emma turned and looked at Henry again, and narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s okay, Walsh,” she said finally. “It’s the weekend soon, I should probably spend more time with him anyway. I’ll see what the mechanic says about the Bug.”

 _“If you’re sure,”_ Walsh said, his tone hesitant. _“I really am sorry, Emma.”_

“We’ll talk about it when I get back,” Emma sighed. “Bye, Walsh.”

*

After Henry had finished eating, Emma helped Regina stack the dishes in the dishwasher. It was there that Regina said to her as she handed Emma another plate, "I need to speak with you. Privately.” 

"Sure," Emma replied. "What about?"

Regina hesitated. She took the last plate and began to rinse it, cleaning it so well that it almost made the dishwasher unnecessary, and gave it to Emma. She cut off the tap and sighed heavily, grasping the edge of the sink as she stared out the window. 

“Regina?” Emma asked. Regina looked fraught, worrying at her lip with her teeth, a stark contrast to how relaxed she had been only ten minutes ago. “What is it?”

“Henry must be tired,” Regina said after a moment, ignoring Emma’s question. She dried her hands on a dishcloth and swept out of the kitchen, leaving Emma to follow in a wake of confusion. 

Henry was entirely awake, refusing to go to bed just yet –– plus, “It’s bad to go to bed right after eating!” he claimed, which Emma couldn’t disagree with –– but he agreed to watch TV or something while Emma and Regina discussed their situation. 

It turned out that Regina inexplicably had a dusty PlayStation 3 in the television cabinet and a stack of games to go along with it, including but not limited to _Dance Dance Revolution Extreme_ , _Sonic the Hedgehog_ , and _Grand Theft Auto IV_. Emma held the last one up and laughed. “Is this how you learnt to drive?” she asked Regina. “Like a maniac with no regard for road rules?”

"Need I mention that my car is in perfectly good condition,” Regina replied, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not the one with an engine that needs replacing because I overheated it and continued driving for far too long.”

“Sure, okay,” Emma said, tossing the game back onto the stack. “Rub it in. You still ran a red light before, I was there.”

"It was yellow," Regina said, then immediately scowled. "We are not discussing this," she said. "Henry, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. My home is yours."

Regina led Emma to a side room below the stairs, a door Emma hadn't noticed before. Inside was a drawing room of sorts, equally plush with the rest of the house, with a dark colour scheme and an inviting fireplace built into the far wall.

"Scotch?" Regina offered, raising a decanter from the bar and pouring herself a generous finger. 

"No, I'm all right, thanks," Emma said. 

Regina regarded Emma's answer for a moment, then poured a second glass. "Have one anyway," she said, pursing her lips. "You'll thank me for it."

Emma chuckled. "What's going on? Are you going to tell me you're actually a serial killer and lure visitors who won't be missed to your town to kill?"

"Please," Regina scoffed. "I wouldn't need to do any _luring_."

"But you are a serial killer?" Emma asked, accepting the heavy crystal glass from Regina. "I'm trained in jiu-jitsu, before you try anything. I chase people for a living." She laughed. It was strange how at ease she felt here, and Emma was pretty sure it wasn't just because of the plush sofa she was currently melting into. Regina was a curious, very interesting woman in her own home, welcoming and open; a far cry from the intimidating mayor she had first seen in the Sheriff's station that morning. 

Regina rolled her eyes, folding herself most delicately onto the couch next to Emma. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, then pinning Emma with a resolute gaze. "Touch me," she demanded. 

Emma couldn't believe her ears. "Excuse me?" 

Regina rolled her eyes again. "Take my hand, Miss Swan," she said, holding out her hand palm facing up. "We're both adults here, I don't have any cooties."

"Didn't say you did," Emma muttered, but she did as she was told and placed her hand gently in Regina's. 

Immediately Emma felt something, and it was clear Regina had as well. It was a warmth that bloomed from their connected palms and spread from there to their fingers and up their arms. Emma felt it fill her body, a golden thread that joined her blood and coursed all through her veins and back to her heart, making it beat faster and more languidly all at once. It was the same contented, relaxed feeling the mark on her chest had earlier. The warmth was so strong that Emma was sure they were glowing with it, but when she looked down at herself and at Regina, they were just holding hands on the sofa. 

After a moment that felt like whole minutes, Regina pulled her hand away. Instantly the connection was lost. Emma stared at her hand as if it was someone else's, checked her hands and body to make sure she was still herself. 

“Just like before,” Regina breathed, massaging her own hand. 

“Like what?” Emma demanded.

“It’s magic,” Regina replied. “You’ve brought magic back to Storybrooke.”

Emma scoffed. "Yeah, okay," she said, but as Regina merely gazed at her impassively, Emma's brow furrowed. "No, seriously, what was that?"

“Magic," Regina repeated. "You know it’s true,” she said. “Listen to your heart. Your lie detector–– tell me it isn’t saying I’m telling the truth.”

“How do you know about that?” Emma demanded, frowning. But Regina was right. There was no ping, nothing that jumped out at her about what Regina had said, as impossible as it was –– as it had to be. “Magic doesn’t exist,” she whispered, suddenly uncertain. It was as if her blood had run cold. And as she sat there doubting herself, there was a creeping, terrible feeling that something wasn't right at all, but it wasn't Regina. In fact, Emma thought, as the cold became a stone sitting deep in her gut, Regina was the only thing that felt right about any of this at all. 

Regina was smiling now. “Oh, but it does, Miss Swan,” she said. "Watch." And Regina raised her right hand with a flourish as if she were about to present Emma with a gift, except in place of a gift was a small and flickering but _definitely there_ fireball in the palm of her hand. 

Emma yelped, falling off the couch as she leaped backward. She caught herself on the arm of the sofa and stared at Regina, horrified, as Regina closed her palm and there, just like that, the flame was extinguished. "What the hell was that?!"

"Really, Miss Swan," Regina sighed, but the fondness was there again. "Must I always repeat myself?"

"You're right," Emma muttered, "I do need that drink."


	5. Chapter 5

Three scotch whiskies and a lot of squinting on Emma's part later, Emma still wasn’t entirely convinced. Regina had attempted to explain the rules of magic, but Emma couldn’t get her head around it. It was too convoluted, she complained, and why was she the one who brought magic back to town, anyway? 

“I suspect we may never know how or why,” was Regina reply to that. “Magic is unpredictable here, as you know. Or don’t know,” Regina corrected herself. “You may be the failsafe, or you may have triggered something like it. The point is, you have brought magic back to Storybrooke, and this is not the first time. The mark is proof that you are the Savior.”

“What do you mean, not the first time.” Emma threw her hands up in frustration. “And what Savior? I’ve never been here before, Regina, I’ve never even heard of Storybrooke.”

“Emma,” Regina said, firmly but with sympathy. “You know this is real. It doesn’t matter how, right now; I will explain everything to you if you want me to, when the time is right. But you need to trust me. You’ve seen it with your own eyes!”

Emma felt like a terrible, terrible person when she said, “Well, maybe you put something in that scotch,” and Regina looked like she wanted to slap Emma, which really couldn’t be faulted. Emma inched away just to be safe. 

“What more can I do to prove it to you?” Regina said, almost pleading. 

Emma sighed. “You can’t,” she said finally. “I know what I’m seeing, and I know what you’re saying, but, Regina–– you gotta know how insane this all sounds.”

Regina sighed, then, too. She was looking pretty tired; it was clear that every attempt at magic drained whatever mojo it was out of her, alongside her own reserves. But Emma couldn’t resist. 

“Just once more,” she said, as Regina gave her an arch look. “I just –– come on, this is unbelievable.”

“I am not a magic show you insert a dollar into every time you want to see a trick, Miss Swan,” Regina reprimanded, but nonetheless she closed her eyes and sat up a little straighter. Part of what fascinated Emma was watching Regina prepare to do magic: her posture changed, her breathing patterns grew focused and deep, and there was an aura about her that almost crackled with energy. 

Regina held herself very still, brow slightly furrowed as she held her hands in front of her body, palms facing each other. A muscle on the side of her cheek twitched as Emma waited for something to show, but finally Regina dropped her hands and opened her eyes. “I can’t,” she said, disappointed but clearly not surprised. “I’m not strong enough. Not any more, tonight.”

They looked at each other. Then, Emma held out her hand. “Can I help?” She swallowed down the lump of dread in her throat. It was the dread of knowing with every passing second that she was in way over her head somehow, and Regina was the lifeline, as crazy as the whole magic thing sounded. “I mean, if I brought magic back and all.”

Regina nodded. “Here,” she said, and clasped Emma’s hand in her own.

Instantly, Emma felt it flow through her again. The golden thread weaved its way through their hands and tied an unalterable bond between them. Emma’s mind warred with her heart, even as she closed her eyes, attempting to savor the wild, yet all at once comforting, sensation. Regina’s hand tightened briefly against Emma’s, and Emma opened her eyes to see Regina frowning, shoulders slightly slumped and breathing uneven. 

It felt… so strange. It was unquantifiable, intangible, just this thing between them that Emma just knew could never be shared with anyone else, and there was no point trying to explain it, either. But, however bizarre the entire concept was, Emma knew Regina and her mansion was the safest place she could be to experience it. 

“Concentrate,” Regina murmured. 

Emma glanced up in response, startled, but closed her eyes again and tried to centre her being on following the thread. 

“Don’t try to follow it,” Regina instructed. “Just… feel it.”

Emma made a face. Feel it? But even as she tried to discern Regina’s meaning, she all at once understood it. She could feel her heart beating, and then Regina’s heart beating, too, fluttering like it held a secret. Blood rushed through her ears, and Emma suddenly felt lightheaded. 

The thread pulled. 

Regina yanked her hand away. She looked a little unsettled, her cheeks flushed as she exhaled all in a rush. Suddenly, a thin trickle of blood began to run from her left nostril. 

“Uh, Regina…” Emma pointed at the blood beginning to run down to Regina’s lip. 

Regina touched her nose with shaking fingers. Blood came away, smearing her lip in a stark red trail. Emma leaned forward and wiped the rest of it away with her thumb, and her touch lingered. She felt Regina’s breath, warm and unsteady against her skin, and instead of dropping her hand, Emma found herself cupping Regina’s cheek instead. Regina turned into Emma’s touch and exhaled through her mouth this time, a tremble of air against Emma’s palm.

“Regina?” Emma whispered, and she was suddenly so close to Regina, only a breath away, without an anchor to tether her. She fumbled for Regina’s hand and gripped it tightly, almost sighing in relief as the thread washed through her again. 

Regina’s heart was pounding, pounding between each beat of Emma’s own heart. She could feel Regina’s eyes on her. The air had grown thick. She swallowed hard, meeting Regina’s stare, finding Regina’s pupils blown wide and dark, intent in their gaze. There was a scar on her lip; had that always been there? 

The thread pulled––

Emma was dimly aware of a pressure building, both within her and outside of her, and the dull rush in her ears turned into a sharp ringing

––and snapped. 

Emma opened her eyes –– when had she closed them? ––, thrown by the sudden change in the air. “What is it?” she asked. The question seemed to pull Regina out of her haze, and Regina looked uncertain, checking herself and the room around them. Emma looked around, too, but nothing had changed. 

“I––” Regina shook her head. She rose quickly, smoothing her hands down her thighs as she did so. “You must be tired. I’ll make a bed for Henry.”

“Wha–– wait, Regina,” Emma started, but Regina had already whisked herself off to the door. Emma stared after her, stunned. What just happened? Something had just shifted, Emma knew; she felt it, and knew now, that there was something bigger than herself in this little town. Magic. 

Magic that made fireballs and flowers appear out of thin air, real things that couldn’t be hidden up a sleeve or in a top hat. Magic that was inside her, that made her want to kiss gorgeous women and left her lightheaded afterwards.

Emma ran her hands through her hair and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. She had no idea what was going on, but damn if it didn’t feel good.

*

That night Emma dreamt a half lucid dream, half nightmare that felt more like a memory, of walking into the Storybrooke library and directly into some dark cavernous space. Regina greeted her at the entrance with a basket of apples, and they walked into an elevator with numbers on the wall. Then there was a fire, but they were back at the mansion now, the foundations of Regina’s home crumbling all around them. 

All of a sudden the sword from Gold’s shop appeared in her hand, and Emma stumbled out from the rubble of the mansion, choking on the smoke, Regina already outside waiting for her but instead of the basket of apples she now held an egg in her hands, a golden egg the size of a small child’s head. Before Emma could sheath the sword and reach for it, a dragon landed in her path –– a huge, majestic dragon like everything she’d seen in fairytales and storybooks, breathing fire and smoke. Emma felt it sear her skin. 

“She started the fire,” Regina said, “Destroy her,” –– and so Emma threw down the sword but it was stuck to her hand, and she really needed her gun but it was too late, the dragon was exhaling a tunnel of flame and oh shit ohshitohshitshitshit––

Emma gasped awake, frantically patting the fire out before she realised the fire wasn’t there at all, and neither was the sword. The sun was shining through the curtains, casting a sliver of warmth over the bed. Disoriented, she checked her phone for the time –– it was just past eight thirty. The air was still and quiet, but Emma could hear the muffled sound of water running through the pipes in the walls.

Showering, she got dressed and tried to tame her hair (semi-successfully) before heading downstairs. Following the smell of something delicious, Emma made her way to the kitchen but slowed as she heard Henry and Regina conversing in hushed, urgent tones. Well, Henry’s tone was urgent, and not half as quiet as he probably thought he was being. Regina’s was more a modulated frequency of reprimanding. Emma paused just by the door. 

“But is magic really real?” Henry was saying. “And how is my mom the Savior if we’ve never been here before?”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s inappropriate to eavesdrop?” Regina replied.

Henry didn’t answer, but Emma could picture him shrugging, the little sneak. She strode noisily into the kitchen, where Henry was sitting behind the counter tucking into a stack of pancakes, while Regina stood on the other side, holding a dish towel while frowning slightly into space. She jumped when Emma entered the kitchen, and began to fiddle with the towel.

“Henry,” Emma said brightly. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied cheerfully, giving Emma an innocent look that didn’t fool her one bit. “Regina made pancakes!”

“That explains the awesome smell.” Emma ruffled Henry’s hair and looked over Regina’s shoulder, where there was indeed pancake mix sitting next to the griddle.

“Maybe she can teach you the _magic_ to fluffy pancakes,” said Henry, the little shit, and Emma didn’t know whether to laugh or run away at the look of pure aggravation on Regina’s face.

“Good morning, Miss Swan,” Regina said tightly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Emma replied, even though it wasn’t really true. “Your bed is really comfy. You?”

“Yes, fine, thank you,” Regina said through gritted teeth. Their eyes met over Henry’s head and Regina started making an odd face at Emma before Emma realised that Regina was asking her to get Henry to leave them alone. 

“Why don’t you go and brush your teeth, Henry,” Emma suggested, patting his shoulder pointedly. Henry made a face but obediently went anyway. Emma breathed a internal sigh of relief. 

They stood on opposite sides of the counter, simply staring at each other. After a moment, Regina put the dish towel down and straightened her shoulders and said, “I’m not entirely certain you grasped the import of what we did last night.” 

_What did we do last night?_ Emma wanted to ask, because she was sure they were super close to making out on the couch but, given that Regina had pretty much bailed just as it was about to get guilt-trippingly good, maybe that wasn’t what Regina was referring to. 

“I had a weird dream,” she said instead. 

The look on Regina’s face bordered on scorn, as if she was about to say, _and would you like me to kiss it better?_ but all she actually said was, “Oh?”

Emma told her about the fire, and the dragon and the sword, and when she was finished Regina’s mouth was a thin line. 

“Do you think that’s anything to do with, you know… what we discussed?” Emma asked. She looked down at the counter and scrubbed at a nonexistent mark on the polished surface. “I don’t really know what to think any more, Regina. It felt so real.”

Regina bit her lip and frowned, and Emma found it disconcertingly attractive. “Yes, quite likely,” she said finally. Then, she hesitated for a moment before adding, “I might have something that might help you remember.”

When nothing else was forthcoming, Emma prompted, “Such as…?”

“A potion,” Regina replied. “I’ve been working on it––”

She was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. A flash of irritation passed over Regina’s face as she turned and glared in the direction of the front door. “Expecting someone?” Emma asked. 

“No,” Regina said shortly, and the ringing persisted even as they both went to answer it. “Coming!” Regina called, more than a little irritated now, and pulled the door open just as Mulan’s hand was raised to punch the bell again. 

“Madam Mayor,” Mulan said, bowing her head slightly. “I apologise for the intrusion.” 

“What is it, Deputy?” Regina snapped. Noticing a second person, she looked over Mulan’s shoulder. “Who’s this with you?” 

But Emma knew the man standing behind Mulan’s shoulder. As Mulan turned and as he stepped forward with a sheepish smile, Emma said, “Regina, meet Walsh.”


	6. Chapter 6

In a fashion not dissimilar to the night before, Mulan excused herself to do more Sheriff-like duties, leaving Regina and her guests standing in the foyer. There was consternation on Emma’s part, disdain on Regina’s, and skepticism on Henry’s, when he came downstairs to see what all the commotion was. 

“What’s going on, Walsh?” Emma asked. Henry was standing next to her, protectively clutching her arm, glaring at Walsh. 

Walsh looked contrite. “I just wanted to check in on you guys. I feel so bad about what happened, Emma. I got Jason to look after the shop and came right down this morning.”

“Mom doesn’t date cheaters,” Henry piped up, and out of the corner of her eye Emma saw Regina suppress a smile.

“Henry, not now,” Emma murmured. 

“What? I haven’t cheated on you, Emma,” Walsh protested. “I love you.”

Regina smothered a cough.

“All right, this is so not the right place to be doing this.” Emma pried herself out of Henry’s grip and reached for her jacket on the coat peg. “Why don’t we go for a walk, Walsh? Regina, would you mind looking after Henry for a bit, please?”

Regina merely nodded. Henry looked extremely put upon. “Thanks so much, Regina,” Emma said. “We won’t be long.”

“By all means, please, take all the time you need.” Regina’s tone was nonchalant, but her eyes were hard. 

*

Their walk took Emma and Walsh to the docks, where they stood watching the fishing boats bob up and down in the gently lapping water. 

“Why did you come, Walsh?” Emma asked. “I told you we’d talk when we got back.”

“I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t looking out for Henry’s best interests.”

“It’s not your job,” Emma sighed. “But you shouldn’t have lied to me.”

“I know,” Walsh said. “I’m sorry. And I thought you might want to get back to Boston as soon as possible.”

Emma opened her mouth to agree, but hesitated. She realised that that had been true –– yesterday. Now, after what Regina had told her, showed her, last night, maybe she wasn’t in such a hurry to go home after all. There was something here. Emma huffed in frustration. 

“Do you believe in magic, Walsh?” she said, more to herself, and Walsh looked at her blankly. “Like, honest to god, not rabbit-in-hat magic, although,” Emma shrugged, “You could probably do rabbits in hats, too, if you wanted.”

Walsh chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“Go back to Boston, Walsh,” Emma said, making up her mind in that instant. “There’s something I need to… sort out here, first.” 

“Emma, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Emma replied, not even sure if she’d made the right decision at all. Storybrooke could be a dud; Regina could just be pulling some sort of trick on her. “But I can’t go back with you.”

There was a pause. Then: “I wish you hadn’t come here,” Walsh said regretfully. “I really didn’t want to have to do this.” 

“What are you talki––” Emma began, but it was too late. She watched, frozen, as Walsh’s face and body began to contort and morph into something… with wings…? She had no time to stay and figure it out as the monkey –– ?! –– flapped its wings and rose high into the air, rearing back to swoop down on her. 

Shit, where was her gun when she needed it. Emma looked around desperately for a weapon. Her gaze landed on a twisted length of metal, and she ran over to pick it up. When she located Walsh –– formerly Walsh? God, had she been dating a monkey this whole time? –– the beast was already gunning down towards her at high speed. She only had one shot at this. 

Crouching down and bracing herself and hoping that she’d timed it right, Emma closed her eyes and swung as hard as she could. The horrendous resistance against her forearm told her that she’d got it right, and the thump that sounded behind her was confirmation. Standing back up, Emma turned to see Walsh curled up on the ground, wings crumpled around his body, seemingly unconscious. Not wanting to chance another attack, Emma began to run, wrist aching from where the metal bar had been wrenched from her arm when it came into contact with Walsh’s jaw. 

Emma’s legs felt like lead as she alternately sprinted and ran as fast as she could back to Regina’s mansion. She pounded on the door and rang the doorbell three times before collapsing against the front door. No sign of Walsh yet. Emma hoped he was still at least a little bit winded. Not fair that he had a huge advantage on the wings front.

Regina yanked open the door with a scowl on her face and Emma nearly toppled over the threshold.

“Emma!” Regina exclaimed, catching Emma’s waist before Emma fell onto the ground. “Are you all right?” 

“Shut the door!” Emma gasped, struggling to right herself. “Walsh is a monkey!”

“Well,” Regina said, securing the door, “I could probably have told you that.”

“What?” Emma managed as she caught her breath. “You knew?” 

This time it was Regina who looked confused. “I was trying to make a joke. What are you talking about?”

“Walsh!” Emma exclaimed. “We were just talking and then all of a sudden he turned into a winged monkey. I don’t––” She shook her head, leaning against the wall. “Oh my god, you were right. You were right about everything. The magic, the… curse, it’s all true, isn’t it?”

Regina’s eyes were wide with alarm. “Where is he now?”

“I kinda knocked him out at the docks,” Emma replied. “But I have no idea how long he’s going to stay there. We need to get somewhere safe. Where’s Henry?” 

“He’s in the living room, playing games,” Regina said. “Emma, listen to me.” She grasped Emma by the shoulders. “Do you believe? About magic, about the curse.” 

Emma scoffed. “Well, a flying monkey just tried to attack me, which is pretty high up on the list of things I never thought I’d see, ever.”

“Come with me,” Regina said, and took Emma by the hand, pulling her farther into the mansion. Immediately Emma felt that same sensation course up her arm and through her body, the wild yet soothingly restrained tug of _something_ between them. From the way Regina’s body stiffened just for a second, Emma knew the mayor had felt it, too. 

The scar on her chest tingled, and all of a sudden Emma felt drained. This was too much, too soon. She pulled away, but Regina tightened her grip on Emma’s hand, holding her in place, and paused with her free hand on the door handle of another room tucked inside the house. “Please, Emma. Trust me.”

The study that they stepped into was sparsely decorated, though it was still furnished in good taste. There was a large desk that Regina made a beeline for, opening a drawer and pulling out a small, dark blue bottle with a cork in the top. 

“This is the potion I wanted to tell you about this morning,” Regina said, holding it up to the light. The glass was opaque, but Emma could see a faint line of a liquid sloshing within it. “I don’t know if it’ll work, Miss Swan, but this may be our last chance. However, you must want to use it of your own free will.”

“What will happen if it does?”

Regina looked sad. “Then you’ll remember. Everything that has happened before this, and everything that will happen after. You will have two lives, and both will have been true and real, but only one of which is yours to choose.”

 _What was real?_ Emma wondered as she took the bottle from Regina. She uncorked it, and the sweet, heady scent of it filled her nostrils. She did want to know, she realised. She had wanted to know all along. 

She sighed. “Well, here goes,” she said, and swallowed the potion in a single gulp.

*

The memories were excruciating. She could remember everything about New York, and everything about Storybrooke at the same time. Neverland, first meeting Regina, chasing bond jumpers and sending Henry to school –– they all bounced around trying to find their place in the order like a pinball darting within the confines of the machine. Emma gasped, staring up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath. 

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve got two people in my head.” Emma sat up and groaned. “How long was I out for?” 

“Only a minute,” Regina assured her, but Emma caught the worry in her eyes. “Do you remember?”

Emma stopped to think. “Hmm… yes. Car crash, apple tree… you trying to kill me more than once… maybe I was better off forgetting. That was a joke,” she said, to Regina’s stricken look. “We’ve come a long way since then.”

Regina managed a smile. “Yes, I’d like to think so. Are you well enough to stand?”

“Yeah. Kinda hungry, though.” 

“Potion or not, you haven’t changed one bit.”

“Hey!” Emma protested. “I skipped breakfast.”

Regina chuckled at that, even as she rolled her eyes. Emma grinned. “How about I get some food and you can fill me in on what happened after Henry and I went to New York.”

“Henry won’t know,” Regina said. “We have to be careful.”

Emma nodded. “I’ll just say Walsh went back to Boston and we broke up, so we’re still stuck here waiting for the Bug.”

“‘Stuck here’?” Regina echoed with a raised eyebrow. 

Emma chewed on her lip, rethinking her phrase. “Taking advantage of your excellent hospitality?” she amended. 

Regina smirked. “Better.”

*

With her mouth full of really fluffy pancakes, Emma listened as Regina told her about the inhabitants of Storybrooke’s return to the Enchanted Forest, meeting Philip and Aurora and Robin Hood, and how she soon discovered her castle had been usurped by an intruder. 

“Her name is Zelena,” Regina said. “My half-sister.” 

Emma’s eyes were bugging out. “Half-sister?” 

“Unfortunately,” Regina sighed. “You may know her better as the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“The Wizard of Oz is real?!”

“Stay focused, Miss Swan,” Regina chided.

“Right, right. Sorry.”

Regina continued with her story, about how Zelena had wanted Snow and David’s baby, and so––

“Whoa,” Emma said, holding up a hand. “What––”

“Yes, dear,” Regina said dryly, “You’re about to become an aunt.”

“Oh, wow.” Emma sat back in her chair, suddenly feeling like a heavy weight was on her shoulders. “How–– I mean, is she still pregnant here?”

“Very,” Regina confirmed. “With no idea of the imminent danger she’s in.” Somehow, Emma thought Regina didn’t look too upset about that fact. “We decided that you were the only one who could save us, but without Henry, I couldn’t cast the dark curse. Not that I was in any way prepared to sacrifice our son. I would rather have died.”

She cleared her throat and continued her story. “So, your father, bless his heart, decided to sacrifice himself. Snow cast the dark curse… but Zelena manipulated it somehow. Nobody here remembers; nobody but me. It took me a while to fully comprehend what had happened. Rumple is nowhere to be found, and these idiots are carrying on like nothing has happened at all. I knew I had to find you, but without magic, I didn’t know where to start. And then I saw your car parked outside Granny’s and instructed Mulan to clamp it, and… well, you were here for the rest.”

Emma let out a small sound of disbelief. “So David –– he’s… gone?”

Regina looked irritated and impressed at the same time. “He’s fine,” she said. “I don’t know how, but he and Snow White are still very blissfully happy together.”

“Are you sure they don’t remember? If they cast the curse––”

Regina shook her head. “Whatever Zelena did, it wiped their memories, too.” 

Then, Emma frowned. “What you said about Gold –– I saw him. At the pawn shop when I first got here. Creepy and everything.”

Regina sat up a little straighter. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Emma said. “He asked me if I wanted to keep the sword. The one that I used to kill Maleficent.” In hindsight, she probably should’ve kept it. “He even said I would never know when I needed it. Which I did.”

Regina frowned. “Maybe we need to pay Rumple a visit.”

“What about Zelena?” Emma asked. “She must be in Storybrooke somewhere.”

“She’s in hiding,” Regina replied. “I haven’t been able to track her. But I can’t confront her alone. My magic is still weak.”

“We need to find her,” Emma said. “And we need to make sure Walsh isn’t coming back.”

Regina glanced in the direction of the living room. “We can’t leave Henry alone.”

“And we can’t take him with us.” Emma sighed. “Okay, well, you’re not going to like this idea, but––”

“You want to leave him with your parents.”

“He’ll be safer there, Regina,” Emma argued. “Walsh knows we’ve been here. It’s the first place he’ll come back to.”

“Fine,” Regina snapped, “But we are not staying for dinner.”

*

Henry was reluctant to be left alone with strangers, but once Mary Margaret inexplicably established herself as Emma’s old cell mate, all bets were off. “What was it like in prison?” Henry was asking as Regina and Emma drew David into a corner and explained the situation. 

“I’ll come with you,” David said, already moving to get his badge and gun. “Mulan’ll need back up for… whatever this is.”

*

Walsh wasn’t where Emma left him, so the trio decided to split up. David went back to the station to get Mulan and track him down, while Emma and Regina went to the pawn shop, which was closed when Emma and Regina got there. They went round the back and Regina peered through the window. “There’s nobody there,” Regina murmured.

Emma jimmied the lock. Regina was scandalised. “Oh, calm down,” Emma said. “You’re the mayor, I’m the Sheriff. We’re like the most law-abiding people in this town.”

“Is that right,” Regina returned. “Well, don’t expect to have your job back so easily after committing a series of misdemeanours.”

“Shall David and I duel at high noon?” Emma suggested. “Would that suit your Enchanted Forest morality?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Hurry up before we look like the loiterers we are.” 

“All done.” Emma put her shoulder behind the door and gave it a good shove. “Ladies first.”

Regina sniffed and stepped into Rumple’s office. They checked the shop together and Emma picked up the sword, wearing it across her back. “He’s not here,” she said, giving the shop one final look around. 

“Here,” Regina called from the office. “There appears to be a trap door.”

There was indeed a trap door. Sword drawn, and feeling not unlike a character from one of Henry’s video games, Emma crept down the stairs before Regina. Below the shop, it smelled damp and was dark, but Emma easily made out the cage at the back of the basement. Rumple sat in it, hunched over a spinning wheel, frantically spinning yard after yard of gold thread.

“Savior, how kind of you to join us,” Rumple chortled, not looking up from his spinning wheel. “Have you found the prize?”

Emma bit back her irritation, exhaling sharply through her nose. “What prize, Gold?”

Rumple only laughed his creepy little high pitched laugh. “Who will win, of course! Two were born, one given away, now both are back but only one can stay!”

“Zelena must be controlling him,” Regina surmised. “He’s completely mad. He’s of no use to us like this.”

Emma sighed. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“Oh, yes, we can, Miss Swan. We have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Just then, Emma’s cell phone buzzed with a message. “It’s David,” she said to Regina. “He’s found… Little John? _Robin Hood_ Little John? He’s… been attacked by a flying monkey.”

*

At the hospital, Little John turned into a flying monkey and chaos erupted. Emma fought him off with the sword while Mulan and David corralled the crowd and locked down the hospital. It was a little surreal meeting Robin Hood, of all people, but he was pretty useful with a bow and arrow, so Emma chalked him into the “useful good guys” column.

Little John eventually jumped out the window and flew hopefully very far away. Robin Hood was staring after him, looking very sad indeed.

“Why did Walsh attack Little John?” Emma asked, confused. “What’s Robin Hood and his men got to do with this?” 

“We fired upon him,” Hood explained, coming up to them. “We were in the forest, attempting to make camp. We saw him flying overhead and took defensive positions. Roland –– my son –– was in his line of sight. I couldn’t chance any harm coming to him.”

“We need to find Zelena,” Regina said through gritted teeth. “This is getting ridiculous.” 

“You think Walsh is working for Zelena?” 

“I don’t know,” Regina said. “But we cannot exclude the possibility. It’s too much of a coincidence. All of us here, drawn away from wherever she is… I think Walsh is a distraction.”

“But what does she want?” Hood asked. 

“Shit,” Emma exclaimed. “The whole reason she cast the curse in the first place––”

“She wants the baby,” Regina finished grimly. 

“Emma, go back to the apartment,” David said. “I have a spare gun in the lock box in the floor. Take it, and look after your mother and Henry. Make sure they’re safe. Mulan and I will keep looking for Walsh and Little John.”

“Got it, dad,” Emma said, and missed the look of pride and sheer adoration on David’s face as she jogged away, Regina striding in tow.

*

The game plan was to knock on Mary Margaret’s door, and if there was no reply, bust it down. Regina predictably sighed and acquiesced to Emma’s “needless acts of vandalism” and agreed to take Henry back to Mifflin Street, fortifying the mansion if need be. 

Emma walked up the steps to the apartment, evening her breath. She grasped the hilt of the sword. She kinda knew how to use it still. Maybe. 

Regina glanced at her sharply. “Be careful,” she said, and Emma nodded, hand on the door knob. 

She turned it. The door was unlocked. Emma let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in as she pushed it open and strolled in. There, sitting at the kitchen table, was Mary Margaret and a woman she’d never seen before, with a ridiculous hair do and an equally ridiculous large emerald necklace. Regina stiffened behind her, and Emma knew at once that this was Zelena. 

“Emma!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “You’re back early. Henry’s just upstairs.”

“Mary Margaret,” Emma said, stepping slowly around the table and drawing the sword out of its scabbard, “Step away from the table.”

“Is something the matter?” Zelena asked, a confused smile on her face. “There must be some confusion––”

“Oh, there’s no confusion,” Regina said, stepping forward. “We know exactly who you are… sis.”

Mary Margaret looked from Regina to Zelena, to Emma and then back to Regina. “Regina, you have a sister?”

“Mom, please. Just trust us. Go and get Henry, and take him to Regina’s. We’ll look after this.” 

Zelena had started laughing. “Back to Regina’s, where it’s oh so safe? So you do remember, darling sis. I had wondered. And then I decided, it doesn’t matter! I’m going to get what I want and destroy your silly little town.”

“Spare me,” Regina replied, her tone bored, but Emma recognised the stiffness in her spine and shoulders, and the way her fists clenched and unclenched. She was getting ready to use magic. “Using flying monkeys to do your dirty work? You couldn’t summon enough magic for a wardrobe change.” 

“Ah-ah-ah.” Zelena made a tutting sound as Regina prepared to throw her hand back and cast a fireball. “Do you really want to expose your son to your evil magic?” 

“Don’t listen to her, Regina,” Emma said. 

“If you want to save this town,” Zelena crowed, “Meet me at the clock tower at dawn. We’ll see who really is the better out of both of us.” 

Before any of them could react, she was gone in a plume of green smoke. 

Mary Margaret looked very confused indeed. “Emma, what is going on?!”


	7. Chapter 7

They retreated to Regina’s mansion to regroup, where Regina put a shield up around the house as best she could, just in case Zelena tried anything overnight. Emma could tell Regina wasn’t happy with having her parents under the same roof, but Regina also knew that Zelena was more of a threat than a pregnant woman and the most noble and idealistic man who ever lived, so that was that. 

David and Emma decided to take turns staying awake to keep watch. Emma was in the kitchen raiding some leftovers in the fridge on her rotation when she heard quiet footsteps coming in her direction. She froze, hand still on a Tupperware of lasagna, when Regina’s voice floated in. “It’s only me,” Regina said. 

“Hey,” Emma replied, forgetting the lasagna and shutting the fridge door. “What are you doing up?”

Regina shrugged. She looked tired, and somehow more ordinary in just a grey silk robe. She was wearing fluffy slippers, which Emma thought was hilarious. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Want some lasagna?”

Regina chuckled. “I was going to make some tea, actually.”

They sat in companionable silence as they waited for the water to boil, Emma toying with the handle of the tea pot. They had selected a green tea, one that Emma had never heard of but smelled amazing nonetheless, and from the near-empty packet amongst all the others in the pantry it appeared to be Regina’s favourite. 

“Thank you,” Regina said after a moment. She didn’t look at Emma, instead peering studiously at the inside of her mug.

“What for?” 

“Looking after Henry,” Regina said, giving Emma a small smile. “He seems… happy.”

“Yeah, he is.” Emma couldn’t help but smile, too, at the memories of the fun she and Henry had had in New York. It was still pretty weird to remember Storybrooke, and then remembering having forgotten Storybrooke, and now remembering it as well as remembering that she’d forgotten it… okay, now she had a headache. “But it wasn’t the same without you.”

“You wouldn’t have missed me.”

“You didn’t give us a choice to miss you!” Emma lowered her voice and sighed. “I mean, yes you did, but you really didn’t, you know.”

“He couldn’t have come to the Enchanted Forest with us,” Regina argued. “You knew this.” The kettle snapped off, punctuating the silence. Regina sighed and massaged her temple. “I don’t want to argue about this.”

“Me neither,” Emma said softly, immediately feeling contrite. “And –– I should be the one thanking you, Regina. For giving me and Henry that year in New York. It’s –– I know what you had to give up, and it means a lot.”

“It was his best chance,” Regina replied, a faraway look in her eyes as she filled the tea pot with water. “I knew by then that you wouldn’t jeopardise his future.” She set the kettle back down and leaned against the counter, facing Emma. “What if I can’t beat Zelena?” she said suddenly, voice brittle and low. “It’ll all have been for nothing.”

“Hey,” Emma said, putting her hand over Regina’s. By now, the flow of magic between them was so established between them that the jolt and accompanying undercurrent felt more like the melding of two halves. “She’s not invincible, okay? We’ll get her, and then we’ll break the curse.”

“She has Rumple,” Regina countered. "Although what she'll do with him in that state..."

“And we have our magic,” Emma said. “Feel this?” She stood up and threaded her fingers between Regina’s, feeling the magic strengthen between them. “We got Henry from Neverland with this, and I don’t know how but my magic feels stronger now since I got here. We can do this, Regina.”

Regina hummed, tightening her grip on Emma’s fingers. “Thank you,” she said. “For believing in me.”

The thread began to pull again, and the sharp ringing from last time returned with full force. Regina stepped closer. Her eyes were wide, pupils black, and Emma’s breath stuttered in her throat. 

_Oh, what the hell._

The first kiss was a short peck on the lips, a trial to test the waters, and Emma pulled back carefully to gauge Regina’s response. But it was Regina who closed the gap between them and then they were kissing, long, slow kisses that took Emma’s breath and suspended it on an interminable fog of wanting. 

Everything was heightened somehow; heat was radiating off both of them, and a woody, balsamic note from Regina’s perfume pervaded her senses. Emma breathed it in as she deepened the kiss, laving her tongue over the scar she had so wanted to kiss since the night before. 

Then, Regina broke it off. Emma felt herself tilt forward a little bit, chasing the kiss, before she frowned and caught herself. Regina pulled away from Emma, and their connection was broken, but Emma could still feel it tingling on her lips, prickling over her skin.

“What were you thinking?” Regina demanded. But her face was flushed, and her breathing uneven. 

“I wasn’t really.” Emma checked herself, tried to see if she felt any different. She felt awesome, because kissing Regina turned out to be one of those things you did over and over again just to see if it could be any more perfect, but––

“It didn’t work,” Regina murmured, more to herself, touching her lips. 

“Damn. I guess we’re not each other’s true loves,” she joked weakly, but the words cut her even as she said them.

Regina only looked away, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m going to check on Henry,” she said, and went upstairs before Emma could get another word in.

Sighing, Emma stared up at Regina’s back, debating whether or not to follow her. She hadn’t expected the kiss to feel so… fulfilling, as if all the fairy tales about soul mates were real and had come to life just for her right then. She had just sat back down when she suddenly felt a blast sweep through the mansion –– an invisible pressure wave that Emma felt only in the rattling of her bones and the set of her teeth. 

“Regina,” she muttered, dashing upstairs, into the hallway and into Henry’s room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw David and Mary Margaret coming out of their room.

Regina and Henry were sitting in Henry’s bed, hugging each other tightly. “Emma!” Henry said when he saw her standing in the doorway. “I remember!”

“Yeah, I see that, kid,” Emma replied, leaning against the door jamb. “Good to have you back.”

“I kissed his forehead,” Regina explained, stroking Henry’s hair even as he attempted to squirm away. “My little prince. I guess you’re my true love.” She smiled down at Henry and hugged him closer. “I’ve missed you so much, Henry.”

“I missed you too, mom.” Henry pulled out of Regina’s hug and stared up at her. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Henry.” Regina kissed his forehead. “But I hope you understand, I only wanted what was best for you.”

“I know.” Henry looked over to Emma. “What’s going to happen now?”

“We meet Zelena, everyone knowing what she’s done to us,” Regina said determinedly. “And we destroy her once and for all.” 

*

As dawn approached, Emma felt helpless. Henry had refused to go back to sleep, and it was so close to Zelena’s challenge already that Regina was inclined to indulge him. As she sat at the kitchen counter, clutching the now-cold cup of green tea, Emma brooded. How was she the Savior if she couldn’t help Regina now? Even though everyone remembered, now, they still didn’t know Zelena. And even if they did––

“Emma,” a voice said softly from behind her. Emma turned to find Regina standing behind her, dressed like the royalty that she was, holding a small but ornate wooden box. 

“Hey,” Emma said. “Ready to go?” 

Regina hesitated. “I need you to stay here,” she said, and held up a hand at Emma’s immediate protest. “I need you to look after this.” She placed the box down in front of Emma, and there they stood, Emma staring at the box in the middle of the counter in disbelief, Regina waiting for her answer with a look of cool expectation on her face. 

“What is it?” Emma asked, not reaching for the box, because she already knew. But she needed to hear Regina say it. 

“You know what this is, Emma,” Regina said quietly. “And you’re the only person I can trust with it. Please.”

If she listened carefully, Emma imagined she could hear Regina’s heart beating against the velvet lining. “When did you take it out?” 

Regina crossed her arms. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Emma growled, her own heart thudding in her chest as the realisation dawned on her. It was a sick feeling, crawling like ants over her skin and tightening the air around her body until she felt like she couldn’t breathe properly. “When did you do this, Regina?”

Regina was silent. Emma felt as if her chest was going to squeeze her lungs out of her throat. “After dinner,” Regina eventually said. “While you were with your parents.” 

Emma leaned back in her chair and let out a short bark of laughter. “So when we kissed–– no wonder you didn’t feel anything.” Emma chewed at her lip. Refusing to look Regina in the eye, she muttered, “That’s why the curse didn’t break.” 

“Is that what you think?” Regina demanded. “Is that what this is about? You’re upset that the curse didn’t break because I took my heart out?” 

“Oh, please,” Emma spat. The anger was bubbling in her chest now and she wanted to stop, she really did, but there was just something about Regina’s heart in a box just sitting there that made her infuriated. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Regina countered. “So stop being obtuse, Miss Swan, and say what you mean for once.”

“It didn’t break when you kissed me. What if it hadn’t broken when you kissed Henry?” Emma asked. “What then?”

Regina opened her mouth to answer, then realisation dawned on her face. “You think it should’ve broken when we kissed,” she said. “Are you seriously jealous of my son right now?” 

“ _Our_ son,” Emma snarled. 

“Fine, our son. He has always been our son. He will always _be_ our son. You know how I feel about you, Emma––”

Emma laughed bitterly. “Do I?”

“What does it matter?!” Regina snapped. “The curse is broken. Why are you so angry about this?”

“I’m angry because I have two lives in my head right now and I don’t know which one I prefer, okay?” Emma yelled. “I don’t know whether I want to stay here with you and feel like I’m not good enough all the time or take Henry back to New York and pretend this all never happened. I’m angry because you took your heart out like it’s nothing and gave it to me in this stupid box like it’s a trinket of some kind and now you’re going to go out there and you could get killed, Regina, and you think it doesn’t matter?!” 

Someone cleared their throat. Emma and Regina turned to find David standing by the kitchen doorway, looking a little sheepish. “Uh… I hate to interrupt, but Regina, we should go,” David said, giving Emma a small and apologetic smile. 

So Regina had already spoken to him about leaving her heart in the mansion. Emma closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying not to feel betrayed. “David,” she called after her father as he let Regina leave first. “Take care of her, okay?”

David sent her a wide, genuine smile this time. “I will. You look after her heart.”

“Yeah,” Emma murmured to an empty room. “Sure.”

*

Mary Margaret and Henry came downstairs not long after David and Regina had gone. Emma hadn’t moved from her spot, watching the box containing Regina’s heart. Mary Margaret took one look at Emma and immediately began to make three mugs of hot chocolate.

“Emma?” Henry stood by Emma’s shoulder. 

“Hey, kid,” Emma said, wrapping an arm around Henry’s waist and hugging him close. “How you holding up?” 

Henry shrugged. “I’m okay. I still wish I could’ve gone with mom and gramps.”

“You and me both, kid,” Emma sighed.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” 

“She’ll be fine, kid.” Emma watched Regina’s heart. _Bud-up, bud-up_ , she imagined it was going right now. Part of her wanted to open the box, watch it beat, see if she could figure out how Regina felt, but another part of her couldn’t bear to look.

“You shouldn’t argue with her,” Henry said casually, as Mary Margaret added whipped cream and rummaged around Regina’s pantry for cinnamon. “Mom loves you.”

Emma glanced sharply at Henry. “Henry––”

Henry rolled his eyes and never looked more like Regina’s son in that moment. “I’m not a kid any more, ma,” and his designation for her wasn’t missed by Emma. “She does. We should stay here, with her.” 

Emma sighed and wrapped her hands around the fresh mug of steaming hot chocolate that Mary Margaret placed in front of her. Mary Margaret was looking very much like she wanted to interrogate Emma when they had a moment alone, but to her credit was doing well to hold it in at the moment. “I was going to talk to you about it later, when this is all over.”

“Well, I want to stay here,” Henry insisted, albeit gently, wrapping his arms around Emma. “Our family’s here.”

Emma’s cell phone rang, then. It was David. She put him on speakerphone. “Get Regina’s heart to safety!” he shouted, sounding out of breath. “Zelena wanted it, and she’s on the rampage. She might have sent the flying monkeys your way. We’re on our way back, but they might have a head start.”

“We’re on it,” Emma said, and hung up. She grabbed the box and sprang out of her seat, drawing her sword. “Mom, Henry, stay here. Keep away from the windows.”

“Where are you going to hide it?” Mary Margaret asked. 

“I don’t know,” Emma said, feeling helpless for the umpteenth time since arriving in Storybrooke. “Inside Regina’s chest, I hope.”

*

The front door blew open and Emma braced for a fight, but it was just Regina and David storming in. “Is Henry safe?” was the first thing Regina said as Emma met them in the foyer. 

“He’s fine, he’s with Mary Margaret. What happened?” Emma asked, finally able to take a good look at Regina. Her hair was wild and her clothing in disarray. There weren’t any visible marks on her face, but Regina was favouring her left arm and walking with a slight limp. 

“Magic,” David said grimly. “She was only after one thing.” 

Actually holding the box in her hands, now, Emma could feel, really feel, Regina’s heart pounding against its confines. “What do we do?” she asked, frantic. Regina needed her heart back, but Zelena couldn’t get her hands on it. Surely it was safer inside Regina’s chest and then they could magic a shield around Regina rather than running around trying to find a hiding spot for the box. 

Emma tried to halt her thought process but David and Regina were staring at her. “Did I say that out loud?” 

“Yes, Miss Swan,” Regina said dryly, but she was smiling nonetheless. “I agree with you. My heart is safer in my chest. I was able to have a look at how Zelena controls her magic here, and I think… if we did the same as we did in Neverland, then we should have a good chance.”

“I don’t know how to control it,” Emma started, panicking. 

“I’ll train you,” Regina said. “We should have some time.” 

David nodded. “She’s regrouping. If we haven’t had the monkeys here by now, she must be working on the other parts of her plan.” 

“Which are…?”

Regina had a sour look on her face. “That much I wasn’t able to glean from my dear sister. I have a plan, which I will share tonight. For now, Miss Swan,” she said, turning back to Emma, “I believe you have something of mine.”


	8. Chapter 8

Putting Regina’s heart back in its place was horrible and squishy and downright the last way Emma thought she’d ever be touching Regina. “Please never do this again,” Emma said as they stood in Regina’s bedroom, Regina guiding Emma’s hand through her chest and held it there as her heart beat in place. It was slippery, and hot, and Emma could feel Regina’s flesh and blood and bone surrounding her wrist as she pulled her hand out. She shivered and stared at her hand, which was dry. So weird.

“With any luck, I don’t intend to,” Regina said, smoothing down her blouse. “Thank you, Miss Swan.”

“No sweat.” 

Regina sat down on her bed, hands clasped on her lap. “We’ll have to start your training soon,” she said. 

“Yeah.” Emma hovered awkwardly at the foot of the bed, hands tucked into her back pockets. She rocked on her heels as she summoned the courage to say what she wanted to. “Listen, about earlier…”

“Consider it forgotten,” Regina said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. 

“No, let me finish,” Emma said. “You were right. For some stupid, childish second I was mad that I didn’t break the curse with you. Because you’re the only thing that’s felt right since I got back here, Regina, and I thought that if we broke the curse, then it would mean that I should stay here. In Storybrooke, with you. You know, if we were true loves and all––”

“You’re my soulmate,” Regina interrupted quietly. 

Emma stared at Regina, not sure she’d heard correctly. “What?”

“A very long time ago,” Regina began with a sigh. She patted the space next to her on the bed and Emma sat down, feeling a little numb. Regina stared down at her hands, picking at her nails. “I was told that my soul mate was someone with a lion tattoo. Tinkerbell showed me that tattoo with fairy dust. It was the one on your back, Emma. Exactly the same.”

All her breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Emma felt like someone had hit her in the back of the head, hard. “And you saw it,” she said. “My first night here.”

“I did. And I didn’t know what to do, because you didn’t remember. I didn’t want to believe it. You, the Savior, Henry’s mother… I didn’t know if...”

“If we’d work together,” Emma finished for her. It was amazing, she thought, how similar Regina and she were when it came to each other. Internally chastising herself for her foolishness, Emma committed to the decision she knew she should’ve made all along. “Well, Henry wants to stay. And if I went back to New York I’d just be running away.” She reached over and took Regina’s hand in hers. “I think maybe… maybe it’s time to stop running.”

She saw the beginnings of a smile on Regina’s face, and immediately Emma’s heart felt lighter. Closing her eyes, she put all the words she couldn’t say into the thread of magic that already felt stronger, felt it surge upwards and flow through their veins, sharing their blood. Regina’s grip on Emma’s hand tightened, and Emma opened her eyes to find Regina watching her. 

The kiss was sweet, and full of promise. Emma’s body was thrumming as they parted, and Regina nipped at her lower lip before pulling away. 

“I need you,” Regina murmured, and Emma shivered at the quiet command in Regina’s voice. “I can’t do this without you.”

“We’ll get her,” Emma vowed. “We’ll get Zelena. Together.”

Regina smirked, raising her free hand. “I feel stronger already.”

And as she watched Regina light fireball after fireball with the snap of her fingers, Emma knew that they would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END. We made it through the wilderness! I kinda lost some steam at the end there, but thank you for sticking it out. Kudos and comments are, as always, extremely welcome and much appreciated.


End file.
